Saturday, October 25, 2008
Number Three: A Journey
Ever since she was a little girl, my eldest daughter has loved the sport of basketball. She loved it so much that she has spent more than many hours playing the game, and she has become very proficient at it. Contributing factors have been that both her parents are fans of the game, and her mother’s best friend, Bernie, was a talented college player. All of my loyal readers have followed the last two years of Maribel’s college career, including her team’s Division II championship earlier this year.
When her college career ended, however, everyone, Maribel included, felt that she would now enter a new phase in her life that did not include competitive basketball. Maribel was not entirely sure of what she wanted to do after school, but she had several options in mind. She had thought about going into coaching, and she was working as a graduate assistant for her college coach. She thought about augmenting that with teaching, facilitating coaching on a junior or senior high school level. She’s also considered a career in law enforcement, since she admires the work that Bernie does.
One career that she did not consider, at least initially, was as a professional basketball player.
So when Maribel unexpectedly came charging into the house the evening following Angela’s parents departure screaming, “I’M GOING TO BE A PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!” both of her parents were rather surprised.
When Maribel had calmed down somewhat, we all gathered in the living room so that she could elaborate. I had known that she had made several basketball-related contacts whilst at the Olympics, and that, in general, these contacts were impressed with her basketball acumen. Since we had traveled to China courtesy of the Women’s Basketball Team, Maribel had spent some time practicing with them. During some of those practices, it appears that there were scouts present. One of those scouts was so impressed she had called Maribel earlier in the day and invited her to the team’s training camp, which was to begin in three days.
“Wow!” Colette exclaimed. “Who will you be playing for?”
“Tel-Aviv!” responded Maribel.
Angela asked, “Isn’t that in Israel?”
“YES!!” screamed Maribel.
My immediate thought was that Maribel was not old enough to be living so far from home and that there was no way that I was going to allow this.
Then I remembered what year it was.
Maribel was no longer a teenager. She was a 23-year-old adult. She’d been primarily living away from home, at school, for the last four years. She had traveled extensively with her college team. She was the one who basically guided me during or China trip.
But mostly, this was the fulfillment of a childhood dream.
I would have given up spanking for a chance to play center field for the Detroit Tigers (that’s professional baseball for those of you who are not familiar with that particular organization). Unfortunately, my skills were never adequate enough to get that opportunity. Maribel apparently had the skills. Besides, she would probably go regardless of how I felt about it. That’s what I would have done were I in her shoes.
“Are you CRAZY?” was my darling wife’s response, however. “People get blown up in Israel!” Angela did not appear to share my view, at least at first.
“Things have calmed down there, Mom,” was Maribel’s thoughtful reply. “Besides, they told me that basketball players never get blown up.”
Naturally, there were a thousand questions. The answers were reasonable. This was to be a tryout, there was no guarantee that Maribel would actually make the team. If she did qualify, there was a strong possibility that her playing time would be limited since she would be the youngest player on the team. The league would pay for her plane fare to Israel, give her a place to stay during the camp, and fly her home if she failed to make the team. There was considerable security provided both at the practice facility and the place where she would stay.
Two days later, my little girl, my champion daughter, was on a plane headed almost half-way around the globe. There were no guarantees, but Maribel had kept in shape and was able to work on her game against the Olympians over the summer. In addition, she was not just showing up to try out for a team that had never seen her play before. She had been scouted and she had been invited, so they must have liked something about what they saw. Still, even though Maribel had spent most of her time away at college for the last four years, the house seemed too quiet with her so far away.
To make a long story, well, not so long, two weeks later Colette received a text message from her sister saying, “I MADE THE TEAM.” At least that’s what Colette said it meant since I don’t speak “text” very well. So Maribel is now a professional basketball player in Israel. Thus far, she’s averaged about eight minutes of playing time per game. She is not scoring very much, but she seems to be getting a lot of rebounds and assists. She told me that she needs to work more on her defense. Her salary, although nothing compared to NBA standards, allows her to live decently and perhaps even save a little.
While I have been philosophical about Maribel’s new adventure, Angela has been more emotional. It is hard for her to accept that our first-born is now on her own, that she doesn’t need our support any more. I’ve tried to explain that she’ll always need our support, just that the support now must come in different forms. She understands, but she is still sad. Apparently, that is a “mom thing.”
Of course, her discomfort is my fault. This was to lead inevitably to my own discomfort, in the form of a sore bottom. But that, too, is a story for later.
First a champion, then a professional. My daughter, Maribel, is fantastic.
When her college career ended, however, everyone, Maribel included, felt that she would now enter a new phase in her life that did not include competitive basketball. Maribel was not entirely sure of what she wanted to do after school, but she had several options in mind. She had thought about going into coaching, and she was working as a graduate assistant for her college coach. She thought about augmenting that with teaching, facilitating coaching on a junior or senior high school level. She’s also considered a career in law enforcement, since she admires the work that Bernie does.
One career that she did not consider, at least initially, was as a professional basketball player.
So when Maribel unexpectedly came charging into the house the evening following Angela’s parents departure screaming, “I’M GOING TO BE A PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!” both of her parents were rather surprised.
When Maribel had calmed down somewhat, we all gathered in the living room so that she could elaborate. I had known that she had made several basketball-related contacts whilst at the Olympics, and that, in general, these contacts were impressed with her basketball acumen. Since we had traveled to China courtesy of the Women’s Basketball Team, Maribel had spent some time practicing with them. During some of those practices, it appears that there were scouts present. One of those scouts was so impressed she had called Maribel earlier in the day and invited her to the team’s training camp, which was to begin in three days.
“Wow!” Colette exclaimed. “Who will you be playing for?”
“Tel-Aviv!” responded Maribel.
Angela asked, “Isn’t that in Israel?”
“YES!!” screamed Maribel.
My immediate thought was that Maribel was not old enough to be living so far from home and that there was no way that I was going to allow this.
Then I remembered what year it was.
Maribel was no longer a teenager. She was a 23-year-old adult. She’d been primarily living away from home, at school, for the last four years. She had traveled extensively with her college team. She was the one who basically guided me during or China trip.
But mostly, this was the fulfillment of a childhood dream.
I would have given up spanking for a chance to play center field for the Detroit Tigers (that’s professional baseball for those of you who are not familiar with that particular organization). Unfortunately, my skills were never adequate enough to get that opportunity. Maribel apparently had the skills. Besides, she would probably go regardless of how I felt about it. That’s what I would have done were I in her shoes.
“Are you CRAZY?” was my darling wife’s response, however. “People get blown up in Israel!” Angela did not appear to share my view, at least at first.
“Things have calmed down there, Mom,” was Maribel’s thoughtful reply. “Besides, they told me that basketball players never get blown up.”
Naturally, there were a thousand questions. The answers were reasonable. This was to be a tryout, there was no guarantee that Maribel would actually make the team. If she did qualify, there was a strong possibility that her playing time would be limited since she would be the youngest player on the team. The league would pay for her plane fare to Israel, give her a place to stay during the camp, and fly her home if she failed to make the team. There was considerable security provided both at the practice facility and the place where she would stay.
Two days later, my little girl, my champion daughter, was on a plane headed almost half-way around the globe. There were no guarantees, but Maribel had kept in shape and was able to work on her game against the Olympians over the summer. In addition, she was not just showing up to try out for a team that had never seen her play before. She had been scouted and she had been invited, so they must have liked something about what they saw. Still, even though Maribel had spent most of her time away at college for the last four years, the house seemed too quiet with her so far away.
To make a long story, well, not so long, two weeks later Colette received a text message from her sister saying, “I MADE THE TEAM.” At least that’s what Colette said it meant since I don’t speak “text” very well. So Maribel is now a professional basketball player in Israel. Thus far, she’s averaged about eight minutes of playing time per game. She is not scoring very much, but she seems to be getting a lot of rebounds and assists. She told me that she needs to work more on her defense. Her salary, although nothing compared to NBA standards, allows her to live decently and perhaps even save a little.
While I have been philosophical about Maribel’s new adventure, Angela has been more emotional. It is hard for her to accept that our first-born is now on her own, that she doesn’t need our support any more. I’ve tried to explain that she’ll always need our support, just that the support now must come in different forms. She understands, but she is still sad. Apparently, that is a “mom thing.”
Of course, her discomfort is my fault. This was to lead inevitably to my own discomfort, in the form of a sore bottom. But that, too, is a story for later.
First a champion, then a professional. My daughter, Maribel, is fantastic.
